


Dribs & Drabbles

by MarigoldVance



Category: Being Human (UK), Poldark (TV 2015), Return to Treasure Island (TV 1996), The Almighty Johnsons, The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: (so mild), Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Mob, Alternate Universe - Modern Royalty, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Zombie Apocalypse, Christmastime, Cuddles, Depression (alluded to), Fluff, Ghosts, M/M, Mild Angst, Mob family, OMC (Mob AU), Prompt Fill, Semi-Graphic Depiction of Corpse, Spirits, drabble challenge, fairfolk, hand holding
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-15
Updated: 2020-07-25
Packaged: 2020-10-19 07:28:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 30
Words: 11,028
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20653445
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MarigoldVance/pseuds/MarigoldVance
Summary: my contributions to GatheringFiKi challenges as well as prompt fills and sample-size ficlets that need a home.please heed the tags[pairings/ratings are listed in each chapter summary]





	1. Graceful

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> FíKí, T

≡

Fíli struggled against his bonds, watching helplessly as Kíli leapt into the fray.

_There are too many_.

He pulled and thrashed and screamed into the night but the rope was too tight, too well secured. 

This was _wrong_. Everything in Fíli was desperate to get to Kíli, to be at his brother’s side and ensure that they made it out alive. Instead, he was forced to witness what could be Kíli’s last moments… and it would be his fault.

Time seemed to slow as Kíli ducked and twisted, his expression all battlelust and hard-focus, marred and dirtied with the black blood of the Infected. He thrust his blade into the stomach of the nearest one, pulled it out, spun on his heel and brought it down again in what looked like one motion, severing its head clean off.

Fíli’s breath caught.

Kíli fought like he was meant to do this; with a strength and grace Fíli had never acknowledged in his brother before, had never given him the opportunity to prove he carried.

It was beautiful and terrifying and Fíli had never been more in awe of anything in his life.

≡


	2. Hiding An Injury

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> FíKí, T

≡

Kíli stared for a moment, a dark brood falling over him as he watched his brother retreat to the other side of camp. There was an unmistakable stiffness to Fíli’s gait that hadn’t been there earlier. Kíli followed, shouldering past those who wished to thank him for his _bravery_ or _strength_ or _whatever that last person said_. He appreciated their gratefulness but now wasn’t the time.

Fíli, sat in the shadows just outside the firelight, stopped mid-motion as if caught doing something particularly naughty. And, normally, Kíli wouldn’t be surprised if that was the case. However, he could sense that this wasn’t one of those normal times.

Without further hesitation, he marched over to and around Fíli before dropping heavily to his knees between Fíli’s legs. Kíli searched his brother’s gaze, waiting for the minutest of tells, some indication of what Fíli was hiding. And he didn’t have to wait long.

“You idiot.” Kíli admonished, almost-accusing eyes flitting between Fíli’s right leg and his face.

“Didn’t want you to worry.” Fíli shrugged.

Kíli tore away the bloodied denim to reveal the wound beneath, deep and still gushing, and immediately took action. He rummaged through the contents of his travel pack before producing a small case that held a needle and thread.

They both held their breath.

It was no secret Kíli was shit at stitching anything back together, never mind flesh.

Kíli pulled Fíli in and kissed him fiercely, putting as much feeling behind it as he dared. Fíli wasn’t so naïve as to believe it was a pre-emptive apology for what was about to happen. And he was proven right a second later when Kíli pulled away, bringing Fíli’s head to his shoulder and ear to his lips.

“I’m going to make sure this hurts.” Kíli whispered rougly, “So you remember.” He shifted back and tugged on a fistful of blond hair, forcing Fíli to meet his eye. “No hiding. No secrets.”

Before Fíli could reply, Kíli sunk the needle in and got to work.

≡


	3. Cuddles/Naps While Weather Rages Outside

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> FíKí, Gen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _i may have taken some liberties with the 'weather' aspect. it was meant to be 'terrible' but ... i mean, if you _  
hate the rain  
_ it can be considered terrible ... right?_

≡

Fíli warmed at the sight as he entered the sitting room.

The rain pitter-pattered softly against the window, blurring the dark greens and greys of the world beyond the mountain. Inside, Kíli – as he did whenever the autumn weather turned wet and cold – made a nest in the deep stone windowsill. Blanket around his shoulders, tea at his feet and book open in his lap. An intense look had settled on Kíli’s brow that Fíli associated to the lack of light. There was evidence of candles having been lit though had likely been extinguished by the draft that came and went as it so often pleased.

Without a word, Kíli shuffled forward and offered enough room for Fíli to curl around him from behind.

It surprised almost anyone to discover that always-in-motion Kíli could exercise the patience and concentration to read whole stories. Fíli knew: his brother devoured tales and epics and odes like a glutton at a feast. It surprised everyone more to learn that Fíli had no interest whatsoever in books.

Apart from one exception.

“Read to me?” He asked softly, afraid to rustle the peace that had settled comfortably over them.

It didn’t matter that Kíli started from wherever he was at (mid-sentence, mid-intrigue, mid-reveal).

What mattered was that it was Kíli’s voice telling the story.

≡


	4. Christmas Lights

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> FíKí, Gen

≡

Rainbows glittered in whiskey eyes as Kíli gazed at him warmly, all the affection of a brother and the love of something more. Fíli swayed them closer, the crisp scent of pine and woodsmoke swaddling them in memories of home. It was a small display of all the things that overwhelmed Fíli’s heart but he knew it was everything to Kíli and he would do it again without hesitation. Warm reds and greens and yellows flickered across pale skin as more was revealed and Fíli decided then that every year, no matter where they were, he would always find the colors for Kíli. Always.

≡


	5. Fighting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> FíKí, Gen

≡

The acrid taste of insults he didn’t mean – _could never _mean – swelled his tongue and made his throat ache. He was impulsive. Quick to temper, aggravated warfare out of others like picking at a scab. Because he couldn’t admit when he was at fault, at least not immediately. Fíli told him – _warned him_ – that it would do him no good, that stubbornness. That it would, forever, build walls and cripple bridges and _push everyone away_. Only, Kíli never expected it to be Fíli who was pushed so far it seemed impossible he would ever come back.

_But that’s the thing about love_, and there was Fíli with his affectionately put-out half-smile, _it has a way of pushing back_.

≡


	6. “I’m not sure what peace is supposed to feel like, but I think it may feel a lot like you.”

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Britchell, Gen

≡

Anders’ nails pinched the skin of his palms, pinprick crescents of not-quite-anger, as he listened to Axl repeat himself. Like his words could be as impactful as Bragi’s. Like saying the same thing in seven different ways, just to boast _look at all the words I know_, would make a dent of difference to Anders’ mind.

He didn’t realize he was trembling until his body stilled under the firm touch of a resolute hand on his shoulder. Mitchell stood close and Anders could _feel_ the deep scowl directed toward Axl and his list of reasons why _everything you do is a bad idea, Anders, so don’t_.

In a blink, he realized and it winded him.

When they were alone, away from lists and admonishments and _brothers who knew better_, Anders confessed, “I’m not sure what peace is supposed to feel like…”

And Mitchell cocked his head and offered an expression partway between sympathy and concern.

“But…” Anders hesitated, this display of emotion _too intimate_. But Mitchell sat patiently, making Anders aware that he could easily abandon his thought and Mitchell would never bring it up again. So he did – finish it that is – because Mitchell deserved to hear it, “I think it may feel a lot like you.”

≡


	7. Dancing in the rain was so romantic but now we’re both sick in bed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> FíKí, Gen

≡

It had been spontaneous, inspired by a movie Kíli remembered watching with Amad when he was a child. They’d been on their way home when the rain started and, rather than hurry his steps, he’d dropped his things, faced the sky and welcomed the downpour with an embrace.

Fíli had thought him mad for a moment before something must have changed his mind because all Kíli knew after that was Fíli’s broad chest and the ebb and sway of their bodies in the grass. Slow circles and soft kisses and –

“I hate you.” Fíli croaked from his side of the bed, beneath a warm washcloth and buried in tissues and smelling of too much peppermint. “I hate you so much.”

“If you did, you wouldn’t even have a cold. You’d have left me to get sick all alone and never’ve come back for me.”

“Why didn’t I do that?” Fíli asked the air, nose so stuffed it muddled up his words.

“Because,” Kíli paused to cough up a lung and sneeze all over his tea, “You _do_ love me.”

“And I’m beginning to regret that.”

Kíli glared. Fíli glared back. And they agreed never to try _romance_ again as they wailed and heaved and ached through the night.

≡


	8. Hopeless

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> FíKí, T

≡

He was born with a hole in his heart and it grows ever larger as he does.

_Kíli watches the sharp wind scrape and shriek through the branches of spindly, black trees. Everything is quiet, the town beyond the iron gates empty as the snowfall thickens._

He was born with a deep, unyielding sadness that fragments him. It threatens to swallow him, tells him truths others seem to dismiss easily – they swat them away like flies buzzing too close to their ears. While his eyes watch the world in dashes of grey and shadow, he prides himself on how he can pretend to see the technicolor days he is described.

_Kíli slouches, curling further into himself to protect against the winter weather. That’s when he spots it, a flickering gold against the gloomy twilight._

Fíli was born with a light in his heart and it grows ever larger as his brother does. He brandishes the lamp and forces himself forward, over the uneven ground toward the black smudge of a figure against all the white. Kíli can never evade him, as clever as these moods make him think he is.

He approaches Kíli as quick as he can and says nothing when he reaches him. He doesn’t understand the hole Kíli insists he carries within him. He doesn’t know how to feel that way. 

But Fíli does know one thing: His light will always be there, for as long as he is and well after, to keep the darkness at bay. 

≡


	9. Cold

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> FíKí, Gen

≡

His nose was red and raw, cheeks kissed pink by the chilly air as they made their way into the village. Beside him, Fíli looked … grumpy. A head-shaking contrast to Kíli’s youthful wonder. Something he could never foresee himself _maturing_ out of, no matter if he grew into a pruny, cranky old codger with too many aches and not enough teeth.

It was Yuletide. And Yuletide meant warmth even on the coldest nights; it meant cozying up under blankets and drinking nog with nutmeg and (his absolute favorite bit) a meal fit for his grandfather with all the fixings.

To Fíli it meant frost-nipped fingers, not enough furs and an ever-stuffy nose.

And yet, he willingly followed Kíli to the village bazaar each year, without word or complaint – sure, his expression was just as vocal as his mouth, though not nearly as loud, thank goodness. Fíli would march alongside Kíli until they reached the town center, disappear for long minutes before returning.

It was those moments that Kíli knew Fíli would brave the cold for. Some might suggest they were unnecessary but, and Kíli could tell, they were worth it to Fíli. Because Fíli would return, get very close and hold up the greenest bushel of mistletoe and _kiss him senseless_.

And, in exchange, Kíli would give him the _warmest_, _brightest_ smile, like July sunshine, that Fíli would keep with him for the rest of the season, tucked away in his heart to keep the winter cold at bay. 

≡


	10. "Stop being so ... unreasonable!"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> FíKí, Gen

≡

“_Fíli_,” Kíli said, sounding as though he was trying for _convincing_, “It’s fine. Everything is fine.”

“Is it?” Fíli asked, obviously put-out and not having any of it. “Is it, Kee? Because, from where I am, it doesn’t seem _fine_.”

“Oh, for Mahal’s sake, Fíli, stop being so …_ unreasonable_!”

“Unreasona—” Fíli harrumphed, wide eyed and wild, “Who was it who decided to visit a part of the forest he told _no one_ he was visiting, hm?”

Kíli glared, a dark, broody thing that brought with it an intensity that normally, under any other circumstance, would worry Fíli. Today however, it merely served to ruffle him further.

“I don’t see how this,” Kíli waved a dismissive hand, “is as bad as you say.”

“Since it seems to have escaped you, allow me to point out the obvious: We are – and I can’t emphasize this enough – _trapped in a net some fifty feet off the ground_.”

Kíli glanced down. It was an awfully long way to fall, even if Fíli produced one of his many knives and cut them loose. Kíli would be as dead from the fall as he will be if Fíli followed through with his obnoxious threats to tell their mother when they (_if _they) made it home.

Brilliant.

The branch they were suspended from creaked cheekily as they swayed. Fíli crossed his arms over his chest, tucked up and glowering all the pain and dismemberment he could muster at his brother. Kíli did his best to ignore it and, sly as he was, decided to change the subject.

“Well. Since we have the time … care to tell me what happened to Uncle Thorin’s shield last week?”

Fíli paled.

≡


	11. Apples and Cinnamon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> FíKí, T

≡

They had one day a year. One day when the veil between realms was thinnest. Kíli thought of little else in the days, weeks, months preceding it; his excitement as rich as molasses with a smile just as sweet.

He waited impatiently beside his uncle, watched the dancers leap and twirl across the floor. The tree at the center of the hall was fluffy and glittering and charmingly decorated. Guests marveled at its splendor and added their own presents beneath it (which were donated to those with far less) and ornaments to its lower branches. Children laughed and caused raucous, their parents a little drunk and very neglectful.

It was a truly perfect day to be their only one.

And then it happened as it did every year. Kíli’s keen eyes watched the cardinal flitter and flutter as it came to life in its nest of pineneedles where he'd hung it the evening prior. It ruffled its feathers and took flight, sweeping overhead and leaving a sparkling trail of dust in its wake. Out through the gilded entrance it went, and down the corridor toward the royal apartments.

Kíli followed, his heart in his throat and stomach knots - and none of it was unpleasant. A familiar smell – the smell of home and love and magic – wafted over him, permeating in a silent greeting. He hurried through the door to his chambers, didn’t bother to stop to divest himself of his fine cloak and diadem.

He was there, aglow in the firelight, all gentle smile and warm eyes and everything Kíli had missed in the twelve months since they’d last been together.

“Fee,” He said breathlessly, reverently, taking careful steps toward the ghost of his brother as if he was still uncertain they'd been gifted the time.

“Kee,” Fíli returned and held out a flagon.

The sweet smell Kíli'd caught in the corridor billowed about him like a hug from a friend; he supposed, in a way, it was. He cradled the flagon for a moment, breathing in the steam before taking a cautious sip. Apples and cinnamon and all the feelings of nostalgia and love. It filled him with everything Fíli rarely said.

They spent their time in each other’s arms, between each other’s thighs, against each other’s mouths. On the rug beside the hearth and in the cluster of furs and blankets, removed from Kíli’s bed.

The next morning, the scent of Fíli lingered like a bittersweet promise. Apples and cinnamon.

Kíli’s favorite smell in the world.

≡

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i think i might make something out of this lil' guy. i feel like it needs to be expanded; that a 400 word cap isn't enough room to express all the things that need expressing with <s>my interpretation of</s> this prompt!


	12. Just one more wish

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> FíKí, Gen

≡

It has been retold to tatters but the way Bofur remembers it, their story began with an argument at the end of a war.

Kíli’s three wishes had won them the final battle. Yet, as they sat on the ramparts of a battered kingdom, Kíli was less than pleased.

“Just one more wish.” He insisted, the strength in his voice at odds with the defeated slump to his shoulders.

His genie – _Fíli_ – sat beside him with legs conjured from a thought. The lamp Kíli cradled was cooling in his hands.

“I can’t do that, you gluttonous fool.” Fíli said, though not unkindly, an undeniable fondness to his words.

“And why not? You’re _a genie_, for Mahal’s sake! All-powerful.”

“The rules are absolute. Ancient stuff, you know, not to be tampered with.”

They sat in silence awhile longer before Fíli’s curiosity got the better of him.

“What would you wish for?”

Kíli took a moment to consider his answer. A sad smile graced his lips before he said, “Your freedom.”

Suddenly and quite frighteningly, clouds gathered in the clear sky. Everyone watched as a spear of light shot down from the heavens and pierced Fíli’s chest, propelling him backwards into a cindering heap.

Kíli rushed to Fíli but was stopped short by what he saw. Fíli – beautiful, golden Fíli – was … _rugged_. His skin, his hair, his size were all that of things that existed in Kíli’s world. That is to say, Fíli resembled … a Dwarf. Fíli winced and sat up, stood to his feet with Kíli’s help. Kíli noticed there was something to his remarkably blue eyes that was both divine and earthly; swirls of the celestial power Fíli wielded and something more _raw_. Finite. An understanding of having a life that existed for only a blink of time.

They stared at each other, absorbing what had just happened when a teary-eyed Bofur choked from behind them, “Kiss him, you idiot.”

And, without hesitation, Kíli did.

≡

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this, too, i might flesh out and explore. i had so many ideas in my head and having to condense it wasn't easy x)


	13. Heroes vs Villains

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Britchell, T

≡

The guy was self-serving, rude, tactless; helpful and caring in such a backwards kind of way, Mitchell continuously misinterpreted it as the man being a dick for nothing other than his own amusement.

Mitchell remembered a time when everything existed in black and white. Good and bad. Cruel and kind. He’d been young, ignorant; head filled with his father’s ideas and mother’s love.

See, Mitchell tried, with arguable success, to select _only_ bad people. They were easily justifiable meals; he wouldn’t feel as wrought with guilt when he sucked a child rapist dry. But this man solidified that it was practically _impossible_ to divide people into one of two categories.

He envied his child-self as his now-self waded through the vast in-between. Mitchell accepted that people were _many_ things, shaped by cause and effect. He was fascinated by them. He enjoyed studying them. Or, perhaps, he found it less demonic to learn about who was on the menu. 

And this man in particular had him _.._. _intrigued_. 

Mitchell hadn’t caught his name. He’d witnessed odd, unexplainable things happen to and around the man from time to time. He was short, blond, sexy, with an ass Mitchell wanted to take a generous bite out of. However, that wasn’t what drew Mitchell in. It was the man’s rotating door of beautiful people and – _especially_ – the aftermath of those near-nightly trysts.

Mitchell lurked where he wouldn’t be caught and watched the man escort his conquest to his apartment, all crass charm and smoulder. After the deed was done, an hour or so later, Mitchell watched the final performance. The thing that had hooked him. The man would offer smiles and cab money but there was a coldness at his edges. A deliberate distance. And Mitchell wanted desperately to understand it.

The girls, Mitchell pitied, as they wasted their hearts on this man’s attention. He never gave them more than one night. Yet, and he found this riveting, Mitchell had seen him gaze fleetingly at couples in the street with a glint of _something_ behind all his indifference. It wasn’t obvious, such a subtle change in expression, but Mitchell couldn’t be fooled for long.

He was dedicated to his research.

The world wasn’t heroes and villains and this man – and his insufferable dickishness – proved it. He was a God to those he fucked. The Devil to who Mitchell assumed was the man’s family; who rolled their eyes and shook their heads and tromped away in annoyance.

Mitchell knew he needed to get closer if he wanted to understand the man’s motives and thus, closer he’d get.

After all, a good researcher did everything they could for the sake of the truth.

≡


	14. Soulmates AU

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> FíKí, T

≡

It’s a peculiar thing, not at all how he imagined it. Gentler, slower and less graceful than the lore suggests. No kaleidoscope of butterflies, no bolts of lighting, no wildfires. It’s what exists between the gestures and the declarations. It’s calm and wild and brutally honest. Simple and without judgement. Something that grows in increments, built on a foundation of strong handshakes and nervous smiles.

They met by chance – though was it really? – in a tavern under a red moon. Kíli can still feel the bloom of spilt ale on his thigh and smell the crisp scent of pine; such an unusual and welcome thing in the stuffy air, hot from too many bodies and not enough space.

Their eyes didn’t meet from across the room. Rather, they were shoved together during a brawl. Kíli managed to strike him in the jaw before he retaliated with a blow of his own. It was the conversation afterward, sitting outside and nursing their wounds, that bonded them. A rough, undignified meeting of souls.

He should’ve known then by the likeness of their names.

Fíli was Kíli’s best friend first. Then his brother. Then his lover. A journey of years. There were arguments, snarls and insults. And there was forgiveness. And there was more.

It wasn’t such a surprise, Kíli twinkles, when they discovered they share _the mark_: A pattern of freckles that, when he traces them from his shoulder to Fíli’s, Kíli insists resembles a dragon.

Fíli, ever practical, sees dots. Ordinary dots with extraordinary meaning. And while that’s not at all the romance and poetry everyone expects from their One, Kíli can’t temper the joy he feels when Fíli explains how most ordinary things have extraordinary meaning to at least _one person_ in the world.

Kíli supposes they compliment each other; completely different with so many similarities.

Such a peculiar thing and not at all how he imagined it. Built on the acceptance of imperfection and the promise to strengthen each other’s weaknesses. No fanfare, no thunder.

Just love.

≡


	15. "I can fix this."

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> FíKí, T

≡

“I can fix this.” Kíli said with all the conviction he wanted summon.

“I really don’t think you can.”

Fíli looked at his brother through the corner of his eye, a blend of skepticism and _we’re definitely going to die today_. He hoped Bofur would deliver his eulogy. Bofur was marvelous at keeping things light and Fíli despised the idea of heaviness and sulk at his _Remembrance_.

“No no no,” Kíli breathed, “No. This isn’t hopeless. We just need … ”

“To leave.”

Kíli ceased his fretting to glare fire at Fíli. “_To find birchbark tar_, actually, you cynical bastard.”

“Kee. I love you. In all the ways Mahal sees fit for me to. But this?” Fíli gestured to what was surely the catalyst to their demise, “Isn’t going to be mended – not well, anyway – with **birchbark tar**.”

They both turned their attention to the _very unmendable_ object in question and, after brief deliberation, Kíli slumped.

“Right.” He surrendered.

And Fíli heaved a sigh because that was _so much worse_ than a panicked and ridiculous Kíli who produced the most halfwitted ideas, trolls sounded smarter by comparison.

“Okay. How about we hide it somewhere it won’t be found until we can get our hands on another?”

“Another. You expect they have these _available here_, do you?!” Kíli huffed, “And I’m the fool.”

Patience is a virtue … “Kee, if you have a better suggestion **_thatdoesn’tinvolvebirchbarktar_**, I’m all ears.”

Kíli looked at the object in dismay as he noted, “It sort of looks like something Unc–”

“Don’t.” Fíli interrupted immediately, his face pinched, “Don’t.”

“You can’t deny - “

“Don’t ever speak again.”

-

Bilbo frowned, hands on his hips and riddled with confusion. He was _so sure_ he’d had it in his possession after Thorin’s last visit. And now that Thorin had returned, they had every intention of indulging themselves again.

The last Bilbo had seen it was during Fíli and Kíli’s stopover. But he’d hidden it under the bed where they wouldn’t dare –

Bilbo flushed crimson. “Oh sweet Aulë, no.”

They wouldn’t …

_They would_.

Thorin popped his head through the door, “Have you found it?”

Bilbo seethed.

“Your _nephews _– ” He managed to grit out between clenched teeth. 

Thorin was confused and more than a tad alarmed at Bilbo’s sudden swing in mood. It was only an aide, after all. One of many he’d gifted his lover over the years. Granted, it was Bilbo’s favorite (fashioned after every inch of Thorin himself). Still –

Biblo’s voice was deceptively calm when he declared, “They’re going to die.”

Thorin felt the cold rush of fear when he heard the promise in Bilbo's voice.

His nephews wouldn't see Spring...

≡


	16. Distress

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> FíKí, Gen

≡

It began with a commotion in his garden, in the birdbath stood at its end.

Fíli lounged in the shade, puffing his pipe and enjoying the warm weather. That’s when he heard it.

The splashing didn’t surprise him; birds often sloshed about in their own cheerful rhythm. No, it was the obvious sound of distress that piqued Fíli’s curiosity and spurred him to investigate.

The tiny squeaks and squitters intensified as he drew closer, reminding Fíli of a mouse caught in unwelcome conversation with a cat. He peered into the birdbath and couldn’t believe what he saw.

A little creature, built similarly to Fíli with arms and legs though no larger than Fíli's forefinger. He - for it was most definitely a _he_ \- was sopping wet and visibly grouchy about it. Despite his sour expression, Fíli had to admit, the creature was _handsome_. He had silky chestnut hair, sunkissed skin and a ferocious spirit to boot. The most notable difference, aside from the creature's diminutive size, was a pair of iridescent, damselfly wings that sprung from his back. Also, Fíli supposed, the fact that he didn’t have a stitch on him.

The little creature wasn’t ashamed at all of his nakedness, still furiously flailing about as he tried to right himself in the wrist-deep pool. His kitten-shrieks coaxed Fíli into action and he scooped the little creature into his palm.

Fíli was nipped almost instantly. The little creature flapped his wings, tried to take flight to no avail and eventually settled for sulking on the meat of Fíli’s hand. When it seemed he wasn’t going to have another outburst, Fíli kindly set him down on a stone in the sun where he could dry off and do as he pleased thereafter.

It was some days later that Fíli started receiving them. At first, he hadn’t noticed, but when the pile of gifties grew, Fíli couldn’t ignore it: A fork, a few glittery buttons, someone’s silver toothcap … Oh dear, Mrs. Grindle’s spectacles … 

Fíli had heard cautionary tales of fairfolk, the worst of them being of poxies. Which this little creature undoubtedly was. Because, when you saved a poxy’s life, they repaid you with tokens. And if you accepted those tokens … well -

_Fíli sunk into his armchair, unamused and covered in the teeniest bodies, all tittering and tattering about him as though he wasn't there._

\- it was an invitation for that poxy and his entire clutch to stay.

Indefinitely.

≡

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this little nugget was based on something i wrote forever ago - in the dawntimes before i started a Tumblr 😅 i think i might revisit it. it actually centers around _Bilbo_ and his garden just before The Company arrives to sweep him up and haul him on an adventure x) i'll see if the ideas take root once more. i hope they do. that was a fun story to write (kind of like a child's book).


	17. Fingerprints

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> GatheringFiKi - WinterFRE2020
> 
> for the prompt: "_124\. Secretly holding hands_"
> 
> FíKí, T

Eventually, one of them would give it away. A mismade inflection in body language or too many words to explain something simple. It was torrid, this secret between them – private and theirs. Stolen kisses in corners and quick, hot touches when backs were turned. The blaze of adrenaline that eclipsed the fear of getting caught doing something they should never be caught doing as brothers.

Kíli knew what they were could never exist outside of them, but he was so caught up in the taboo high of breaking the rules that he didn’t care. The way Fíli made him feel was weightless fire, fuck any rational thought that tried to reason it away from him.

He felt the brush of something against the side of his hand where it rested on his leg. A nudge. A push and then fingers grabbing and lacing themselves through Kíli’s so his hand was securely, warmly occupied and pulled away to rest on a hard, thick, denim-clad thigh.

Fíli smiled faintly at Kíli through the corner of his mouth but didn’t look away from their great-uncle Óin. Their hands were hidden from view beneath the drape of the tablecloth but Kíli readjusted anyway, turning himself towards his brother and shifting a little closer to relax without making it obvious. He let his head fall into the palm of his free hand, elbow propped on the table beside his dirty plate, masking his excitement with boredom.

Óin droned through a story Kíli had heard a dozen – if not more – times before. The story was convoluted and dry, riddled with too many details that honestly didn’t matter at all except that Óin wanted to paint a _very vivid_ picture and, _heeeeh_, Kíli knew how it ended probably better than Óin at this point.

Easter was a time to enjoy the company of family and, looking at the deep-set lines of Óin’s face and his pale complexion, Kíli had to wonder how many more holidays his great-uncle would attend. The hearing aid hardly helped anymore, Óin shouting _huh _and _who’s Maury Taters? _at Kíli’s mother as she spooned _more potatoes_ onto his plate.

The thought made him sad and he squeezed Fíli’s hand for comfort, receiving a harder squeeze in response. As the story slogged on, Fíli loosened his grip, so he was more cradling Kíli’s hand than holding it, and snuck his other hand across his lap to gently draw patterns on the thin skin of the back of Kíli’s hand.

Minutes passed, the story continued and Kíli was genuinely starting to doze. Between the tingling sensation Fíli’s featherlight ministrations stirred and Óin’s recounting of _that woman was a battle-axe, with legs like an elephant’s and a spirit to match_ – oh God, when will it _end_? – Fíli twisted Kíli’s wrist, encouraging Kíli to flip his hand over in Fíli’s grasp. When Kíli did, Fíli ignited a flush of goosebumps from Kíli’s palm, up his spine, and all over. Kíli nearly moaned, close to forgetting where they were and who they were with.

Fíli dug his thumb into the meat of Kíli’s hand, working it in delicious circles. If Kíli could purr, he likely would have been. Massage was one of Fíli’s skills that Kíli had had the pleasure of discovering in the first week of their new relationship. And, fuck yeah, Kíli abused it as often as he liked.

Fíli used his knuckles, pressed the pads of his fingers into the tissue, rubbed and pinched magnificent sensation between Kíli’s bones, following them down to his wrist and up again. Kíli knew he was breathing harder than he would be able to explain away should anyone notice. His cheeks were warm, his skin buzzed, and he was half-hard in the confines of his pants.

How had he gone so many years without this?

Suddenly, Fíli stopped and let go, the action startling Kíli to drop his head and blink himself to attention.

“Kíli?”

“Yeah? Sorry. I was – uh – ” Kíli winced and forced himself to glance past his brother at Óin.

His mother made a face in sympathy and nodded, repeating her question, “Did you want dessert, pet?”

“No. Thanks. I’m pretty stuffed.” Kíli chuckled awkwardly and looked down, rubbing his stomach to further support what he was saying. He looked at her, donning his sweetest smile and most apologetic eyes, “I think I need to go relax a bit, actually. Can I be excused?”

Fíli piped in, not too soon to be suspicious though maybe a mite too eager, “Me too, mum, I hope you don’t mind.”

They were excused with an expression Kíli didn’t know what to make of – a raised eyebrow and a roll of his mother’s eyes – and a hug on their way out of the formal dining room. Before Kíli turned to take the stairs, Fíli hot on his heels, Kíli heard his mother’s voice float behind him.

He couldn’t be certain, but it sounded like an irked, “I’m not stupid. They think I’m stupid. I know – ”

Once Kíli’s bedroom door was closed and Fíli had him pressed up against it, Fíli’s lips and tongue hot and wet against his collar, any thoughts of his mother vanished from his mind.


	18. What We Are (this thing we have)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> for the prompt: "_88\. Modern royalty AU_"
> 
> DarkHawk, T

Like this, in these moments, Jim could forget. Sitting astride Ross, Ross’ hot skin and hard muscle beneath him, his cock punching waves of deep euphoria through Jim’s flesh, into his bones, into his _soul_. It was easy to pretend that this was all they were: Together. Free to be themselves.

They’d met at a party of Jim’s socialite friends, all of them brandishing titles that made Jim their lesser in concept but not in practice. He was as demanding and flighty and carefree as anyone born into privilege. After getting to know them, he’d discovered privilege was its own cage.

Ross had been spying on Jim all night, watching Jim over the heads of the people he’d been forced to grow up with; flirt and rub shoulders with for the sake of his family. Jim had ignored him even when Ross’ eyes gouged sultry promises into the back of his neck and between his shoulders.

He wasn’t shy, Ross, but he did have to be careful. There were gossips among the guests, monkeys who would sling shit at the tabloids to further their climb to the top.

No one could have predicted the catalyst of hiring Jim to coordinate and photograph the royal family for an important press release after an _incident _they didn’t want to result in unsalvageable scandal. Ross had followed Jim back to Jim’s studio. Modest, cluttered and perfectly _him_. Private except to those he invited, where he lived and worked and brought moments in time, memories captured on film, into existence.

One photo in the low light. A fire ignited by the flash of Jim’s camera.

Whatever this was, it was impossible. Ross had duties, there were laws and heavily regarded rules and procedure to consider. All that damned Ross to live as someone else. While the royals had advanced considerably in their views in the last seventy years, it wasn’t enough. Condemned to secrets and corners and paranoia. Jim could never be welcomed the way Ross wanted so badly for him to be.

There was a wedding in two weeks. A bride with a womb and apple-cheeks and blood that made her valuable. The papers said she was kind. The rags said she was the _Perfect Princess_. Ross said it wouldn’t change anything. Jim knew better.

Every step forward she took down the aisle was a step Jim would be forced to take backward. Every vow, a splash of water on the fire between them. The final nail in the coffin of what they have hammered at _I Do_.

But like this, together, in the dark on the mattress in the corner of his studio, naked and entangled and declaring their love on the back of every ragged breath, there was nothing else.

This was theirs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> very much based on Princess Margaret and Antony Armstrong-Jones, particularly from The Crown and what i remember of the scene when he takes her photo.


	19. Durin

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> for the prompt: "_158\. Mob AU_"
> 
> FíKí, M

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **WARNING:** this contains LANGUAGE, relatively GRAPHIC descriptions of TORTURE AFTERMATH and MURDER. if you are at _all_ sensitive, my babies, please skip this lil' number!!

Fíli knew before they arrived that it was going to be a fucking mess. It didn’t take a genius to figure out the message behind his brother’s mutilation; strung up, split open from buckle to windpipe like a bled deer, hung by the ankles from a tree just a meter outside of Erebor’s turf. Fíli saw red the instant his eyes found his brother’s butchered form dangling, swaying back and forth under a creaking branch in the February freeze, treated lesser than kills in a meat locker.

Fíli was going to execute every single one of those bastards’ children first, make them fucking watch before he tore their throats open with his bare hands. 

A sentiment Kíli silently agreed with as he cut Tíli down to fall into a puddle of his own viscera with a callous thud. With Dwalin’s help, Kíli wrapped Tíli in a blanket, packed him up like old china, and hauled him into the bed of Fíli’s truck. No one spoke as they drove the backroads toward the ranch, the thunk and roll beating their ears and through their veins as Tíli’s body slid no better than loose lumber in the back. Maybe Kíli should’ve secured him.

Too late to give a shit now.

Π

Dís didn’t cry at Tíli’s funeral.

Her rage burned too hot, the tears boiled to steam that fueled her as she commanded a room full of family and friends – associates. People she knew she could trust to rain hell upon the motherfuckers who dared cross the Durins, who used her baby boy as a typewriter to send their warning. Apparently, those big city suits couldn’t take No for an answer; wanted their territory, their business, and were no longer willing to sit down and negotiate.

Durins weren’t weak. Fíli sure as hell wasn’t going to concede what his great-grandfather had built to a bunch of pimps playing Don Dress Up. They were in over their heads and Fíli was going to make sure they knew that come sunup.

Π

Kíli had snagged the boss’ daughter. Hogtied her and chained her to his back bumper, drove her through her father’s neighborhood before releasing her at the edge of town, rubbed down by rough asphalt to the bone. It would be a miracle if anyone could identify her. Kíli had thought of that, he assured Fíli, jerking his chin at the cops milling about the crime scene. They were safely tucked in the dense shadow behind the treeline, above the action. From there Fíli could see the glint of the boss’ thick gold chain wrapped around her wrists.

Fíli cupped the back of Kíli’s head and brought their lips together.

A clever mind deserved to be worshiped and Fíli would spend the next four hours worshiping Kíli’s. Fíli wanted to spend more time fucking between his brother’s thighs, but they had to focus, to prepare. Their mother needed them now more than ever and their brother deserved justice the way the Durins delivered it.

Tomorrow, they’d be going to war.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> totes inspired by the Gerhardt Crime Syndicate from S2 of Fargo. i fluffing love that show. this came to me in a dream after i watched an episode so ... blame Fargo?


	20. "What's with all the Post-It notes?"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> FíKí, Gen

≡

“What’s with all the Post-It notes?” Kíli asked, eyes bulged in a mix of awe and concern as he looked around, stepping carefully through the doorway so as not to disturb anything that shouldn’t be disturbed. 

_This is new_.

_And frightening._

They were everywhere, top to bottom and all about. Appearing like confetti overnight, a blaze of neon colors patchworked across the study. A carpet of them on the floor, all over the desk and the window; in scatterplot patterns up and along the walls, as high as Fíli’s fingertips could reach.

The study was a hurricane of loose ideas and thready plot points. It seemed Fíli wasn’t any father along in his book-writing as he had been that morning or all the mornings before since he’d started his biggest project yet.

_Children’s stories are great, Kee._ He’d said, all soothing voice and convincing eyes. _But I want to do something for **me** now._

Looking about, it seemed Kíli was going to be illustrating a Mary Kondo-esque novel because there was no way in Hell he was letting Fíli live in his cocoon of one-liner dialogue and twisty plot details for the remainder of the year…

≡


	21. Lists/List-making

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> FíKí, Gen

≡

“No.” Fíli said as mightily as he could, determined to bring an end to the conversation. Debate.

Argument …

An argument that was quickly escalating to _brawl_ since Kíli had brought his eyebrows into it, using them to punctuate his every word.

“And why not? It makes _sense_!”

“Kee.” Fíli fixed Kíli with a _look_. The same one their mother used to use when they were little and excited and tugged on her _anything they could reach_ for foil-wrapped sugar-rush while she stood haggard in line at the shop. “It doesn’t make sense. It never makes sense. It _will never_ make sense.”

Fíli sighed heavily when Kíli snatched the list back, crossed out his latest demand and scribbled something new below it. Fíli eyed his brother warily until Kíli straightened and raised a challenging brow.

“_Fine_. Then it’s that or you’re going on your own.”

Fíli rolled his eyes with a scoff and grabbed the list back, glancing down at Kíli newest entry.

“_How does this make sense for camping!?_”

But Kíli was already striding away, flapping a hand and casting over his shoulder, “I’m bring Barneby or I walk.”

Fíli groaned. “Fine! But you’re completely bloody responsible for the bloody hamster or _I_ walk!” 

Kíli grinned sunbeams. “Deal!” He agreed.

Because – and wasn’t it masterful – that had been his plan all along. Grind Fíli down with nonsense until he couldn’t say no. A game Kíli was surprised Fíli had never figured out after the many years he’d been doing it. This had been Kíli’s most important victory yet!

After all, Barneby did so love to camp.

≡


	22. Dancing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> FíKí, Gen

≡

The elves played their music and Kíli swayed. He closed his eyes and hummed along and tipped his head from side to side. Fíli watched his brother rise onto feet forced gentler than they’d ever been. Watched Kíli’s curious gaze wander to who Fíli imagined was the head of the chorus, and speak softly to him – _her?_. The elf nodded, smiling a small, kind smile before stepping into what Fíli could only describe as a dance.

Kíli listened and watched and learned poorly; stumbled and clunked his way around the invisible circle the elf had him follow. Still, Kíli never grew frustrated, his smile only splitting wider across his face the longer he moved his body. Finally, his foresty eyes landed on Fíli and he beckoned, a hand held out in question.

Fíli would never say _no_.

Fíli trod to Kíli, winced pre-emptively and took hold of Kíli’s waist and hand. The elf tidied their posture, bowed his head and signaled his chorus to strum a melody Fíli thought suited their race: wistful yet haunting on the tail of every note.

Together, Fíli twirled and swayed and glided his brother around and around on feet so light Fíli wondered if his remained; hadn’t been replaced with another’s.

Kíli smiled with his eyes. Fíli breathed a kiss over his lips. They danced a romantic waltz, softer than anything they’d ever danced, in the calm evening breeze to music they’d never imagined could exist.

And, despite what their uncle’s plaints, it was perfect.

≡


	23. Bullseye

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> FíKí, Gen

≡

Deep breath through his nose, out his mouth; one eye squinted closed and the other, narrowed, concentrated, was trained ahead. Perfectly still. Shoulders proud, legs locked. He felt the ready determination thrum through him, a buzz under his skin that encouraged him to focus as hard as he was able.

If he did this – if he ignored tradition, his parents, his _responsibility_ – he would be free. Free to live however he chose; to love whoever he wished. He strained his ears but heard nothing, a silence having befallen the spectators surrounding him from all sides.

One last breath, deep and controlled, and _swish_. He blinked. The arrow sliced the air and sank into its mark, piercing the target and the wooden support behind.

A single gasp, almost indiscernible, caught his attention from behind him but Kíli didn’t turn. He didn’t need to. He knew his brother – his _lover_ – was fighting to restrain his relief as much as Kíli was.

He heard his uncle snarl and his father cough and his mother groan in annoyance.

It didn’t matter, their reaction.

Kíli was free. He’d won. 

≡


	24. Magical Bond

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> FíKí, T

≡

“You can’t just ignore it,” The boy growled, staring fiercely at Fíli – who’d had more than enough riddley mystery for one day, thanks – and stepped forward with his hand held out, unfurling his fingers to expose a symbol on the meat of his palm.

The symbol was shifting, in motion; a slithery blotted-ink mess that reminded Fíli of a Rorschach looked at on hallucinogenics.

Fíli didn’t react – tried not to show on his face how fucking _done_ he was with this whole debacle. He huffed through his nose and moved around the boy to the bottle of whiskey he’d been in the process of opening when the boy had interrupted him; barged into his apartment without so much as a _how do you do_.

Fíli’s palm tingled but he refused to look, to make it real through acknowledgment. Instead, he shook his hand and reached for the bottle, poured himself a strong glass and turned to lean on the counter. He took a long pull of his drink and watched the boy watch him. 

“It’s not like you have a choice, you know.” The boy said after Fíli stayed quiet for too long. “Not ‘til you pass it along.”

“You make it sound like an STD.” 

“Whatever. Look at it how you want, it doesn’t change anything. I’m _yours_ now.”

Fíli whirled around and fixed the boy with a glare. “No, you’re fucking not.”

The boy grinned, feral and mischievous. “Yes, I fucking am.” 

“Then,” Fíli glanced around, desperate to see something sprout between the yellowing tiles that would help him. Obviously, shit didn’t work that way and he was left to continue floundering. “Then what if I ask you to be free, huh? What then.”

The boy snorted, eyed him, then threw his head back and laughed raucously. When he finally settled a few moments later, wiping the wetness from the corners of his eyes, the boy said, “I’m a Harlequin, asshole, not a genie. We can’t _be_ freed. Unless you want a murder on your hands.”

Wasn’t that great? Fíli was stuck with the brat until someone else came along and claimed him.

Again, his hand tingled and again, Fíli resolutely ignored it.

“So what do I call you then?” He asked. He wasn’t resigned to the situation, didn’t feel any commitment whatsoever to the boy, but he needed to call the boy _something_ until he could find a way to be rid of him.

“Kíli,” The boy said with a smile that had too many teeth. “You can call me Kíli.”

_Kíli_ held out his hand and waited patiently for Fíli to return the gesture. Without thought, Fíli reached forward and placed his palm in Kíli’s. It took a split second for Fíli to realize what he’d done – what he’d been _tricked into_ – before he was jolted by a shock of electricity through his veins.

“_Fuck_!”

And, just like that, the bond between them was set.

≡


	25. Headaches from overdose of magic

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> FíKí, Gen

≡

Fíli moved as quietly as he was able, replacing the bowl of hot water on Kíli’s bedside table. He removed the cloth from Kíli’s eyes, careful not to jostle him, and soaked it for a moment; wrung it once and laid it over Kíli’s eyes once more.

Kíli’s face was contorted in pain, his breathing ragged, but he remained asleep. His hands were fisted into his comforter on either side of him, his skin slick with fever-sweat as heat rose from him like heat from a logfire.

Fíli grit his teeth, sparing his brother one last quick glance over his shoulder as he tiptoed out of the room, pulling the door closed with a low _snick_.

It was the same every time. They tracked a band of vagrant orcs, their uncle insisted they remove the threat before it has a chance to strike, Kíli overdose it, and Fíli is forced to return him, unconscious and writhing, to their chambers to sleep off the overexertion.

Truly, Kíli’s magic strikes awe in Fíli whenever he bears witness to it. The flow of it like lava in his veins, crackling at his fingertips as he summons his fire and brimstone, releases it in a fury down upon those naïve enough to believe they stand a chance.

It was Kíli’s fire that conquered the battlefield four years ago; the sudden and unexpected magic manifested and expelled when Kíli believed Fíli dead. It was Kíli’s fire that Thorin insisted be used to take care of any remaining enemies. It was Kíli’s fire that rendered Kíli to a fitful mess whenever he did their uncle’s bidding.

And it was for Kíli’s _future_ that Fíli would find a way to douse the fire lest he burst into a thousand pieces in his efforts to please the man who nearly killed them for a kingdom of cobwebs and skeletons.

When Fíli looked down, teeth still grinding and anger dissipating, he was surprised to see his mug of tea was cooled entirely into a block of nice-smelling ice.

≡


	26. Beorn's

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> FíKí, T

≡

_tick tock tick tock tick—_

Kíli groaned, the skin around his wounds pulling uncomfortably when he shifted to sit up. He squeezed his eyes shut against the pain, grit his teeth until he could feel them in his gums, and breathed out slowly as he settled against the pillows propped up against the head of his borrowed bed. 

It took a moment for the throbbing to subside and when it did, he took stock of himself. Two to the shoulder, through-n-through; one to the thigh; something had sliced open a significant section of his right side and his ankle felt stiff and swollen. All in all, he wasn’t dead and that was something to be grateful for. 

_tick tock tick tock _

He scrubbed a hand over his face and sighed loudly. He wasn’t sure how long he’d been out with no one there to tell him. Hell, he wasn’t exactly sure where he _was_ but he didn’t feel the sense of impending doom like he had last night - or was it the night before, now? - tickling the hairs at his nape like he had when he and Fíli had made their escape, so he supposed he could relax, if only somewhat.

His skin felt slick and grimy, his mouth tasted like ass and he smelled pungent and stale, like sleep-sweat. The room he’d been placed in smelt overwhelmingly like iodine and too much lemon Pledge though he could easily tell he wasn’t in a hospital, the wood paneling and quilted bedcover and large, eclectic furnishings a giveaway. 

Besides, Fíli wouldn’t have risked that, given the situation. Or ... Kíli hoped he wouldn’t have. 

Kíli shook his head, dismissing any negative thoughts before they had time to fully materialize. Fíli wouldn’t do that - whoever he was, whatever lies he’d told, Fíli wouldn’t _do that_ because ... because. Because he was _Fíli_, for fuck’s sake. And that had to mean something. Fíli had had every opportunity to leave Kíli behind and he hadn’t. Despite all the danger surrounding the decision to save Kíli’s life and take Kíli with him, Fíli had done it. 

_tick tock tick tock tick tock _

Speaking of, where _was _Fíli? 

Glancing about, Kíli spotted the window to his right, wide and open to let bright sunlight and a cool breeze into the room. Beyond it all Kíli could see was a smudge of forest in the distance, at the edge of a large stretch of bare, yellowy grassland. He tried to sit up further to orient himself, but his side objected. Sharp stabs shot from the wound all the way down to his toes and into his gut. 

_Fuck_! 

Kíli whimpered pitifully, face scrunched up like crinkled paper, and took short, shallow breaths until the pain subsided. Whatever he’d been given to stave off the worst of it was clearly wearing off and there was no one around to complain to. He was alone. Completely, utterly alone in a strange place where Fíli had probably dumped him upon realizing the great risk of keeping Kíli around. 

_tick tock tick tock_

That damn clock started to sound like a countdown to something sinister. It was going to drive Kíli mad before he had a chance to find Fíli, to figure out where he was, if he was truly safe or if his uncle had found him and was healing him up just to have a clean canvas to work his torture on. 

_Oh God_. 

Pressure built behind Kíli’s eyes and the world blurred into lumps of color as tears welled up, vision darkening at the corners. His lungs burned with the effort not to cry, a knot in his throat; his fingers tingled til they were numb. He couldn’t breathe. He _couldn’t breathe. Oh God, he was going to die in a strange place surrounded by strange things and where was Fíli!? Where was—_

“Hey, hey, hey, kid, it’s okay. You’re okay...”

Kíli heard the familiar tenor and it made something in him loosen. He let it wash over him, lilting words soothed through Kíli’s panic like drops of water in a pool of ink, slowly helping the panic to recede. There was a welcome pressure on his hand and on his forehead, touches swept up and down Kíli’s arm, over his shoulder and into his hair. 

“That’s it, in and out, deep now, c’mon. You’re doing great.”

Once Kíli wasn’t in danger of passing out, he opened eyes he hadn’t even realized he’d closed and _Fíli_. He was right there, golden and perfect, sitting at Kíli’s hip on the bed, smiling tenderly down at Kíli as if Kíli was something precious.

“You’re here.” Kíli rasped in wonder. “You didn’t leave.”

Fíli frowned. “Never.” He leaned forward, face close to Kíli’s when he added, “I would _never_ do that to you, Kee.” as if trying to make sure Kíli understood.

“I thought ...” It didn’t really matter what Kíli thought, he decided, trailing off, because Fíli was there and beautiful and promising never to leave. Instead, he asked, “Where are we?”

“A friend’s.” Fíli answered, ducking his head and glancing to the side. “He’s ... you can trust him. He’s a good man.”

“Like you?” Kíli raised an eyebow.

Fíli snorted, “If you want to consider me a good man, after everything, then I’d say Beorn’s a bloody saint.”

“Beorn.” Kíli said, testing the name on his tongue in an effort to remember it.

They sat in silence for a moment, Fíli’s eyes lingering over the bandages that were visible on Kíli’s body, his brow pinching in the middle. Kíli, in turn, saw the bruises swelling the tattoos on Fíli’s knuckles, the cut on Fíli’s jaw almost hidden by his beard. There was stiffness in his movements as well, evident when he reached out to prod around one of the wounds on Kíli’s shoulder through the bandage. 

As Kíli opened his mouth to speak, Fíli hushed him by rummaging through his back pocket. Kíli hadn’t even registered Fíli had changed out of the almost completely destroyed suit Kíli recalled him wearing the last time he’d seen him. Now, he donned comfortable looking jeans and a plain t-shirt that accentuated the definition in his arms and chest, much to Kíli’s pleasure.

“Here.” Fíli said, revealing a prescription pill bottle without a label. “The morphine must’ve worn off by now, eh?”

Kíli nodded, his attention returning to his shoulder as well as his side now. Miraculously the injury to his ankle hadn’t started to itch yet but it was only a matter of time, Kíli figured, before it, too, made itself known. 

Fíli uncapped the bottle and tipped it, shaking out two pills. He grabbed a glass of water from the bedside table that Kíli hadn’t bothered to notice, and fed Kíli the tablets, one after the other with sips of water in between. 

“Thanks.” Kíli’s smile was still crooked and charming as it always was, if a little shyer now that he and Fíli were safe and together in an atmosphere that didn’t give Kíli the sensation of being watched. It was nice.

Fíli’s eyes dipped to Kíli’s mouth and back up so quickly Kíli couldn’t be certain it had happened at all. “Of course.” He said and cupped Kíli’s cheek, thumb brushing so, _so_ lightly over Kíli’s bottom lip, the callouses under his fingerprint catching on chapped skin. “Anything for you, kid.”

Kíli’s gasped, soundless, and felt his throat tighten for an entirely different reason but, just as he was about to act on it, Fíli removed his hand and sat back. 

“You keep resting. You need it.” Kíli agreed, he did. “I need to head out for a bit_—_” He held up a hand when Kíli went to object, “But I’ll be back before you wake up this time, okay? I’ve got some stuff that needs taking care of if we’re gonna make this work.”

Kíli huffed and rolled his eyes, reluctant to let Fíli out of his sight. He understood, though. Thorin would be looking for them; wouldn’t rest until they were found. His nephew and the cop that had enough information to take down his whole operation. 

_What had Kíli been thinking?_

They’d need new identities. New _faces_. 

“Hey.” Fíli interrupted the thoughts about to ram through Kíli like a runaway bullet train, “I can see you thinking too much. We’re going to get through this, kid, trust me.” He lifted Kíli’s hand again and squeezed. “I’ve got you.”

Heaving a heavy sigh, Kíli calmed easily. His eyelids were already drooping, and his body buzzed pleasantly under his skin, the meds Fíli had given him quickly taking effect and abating whatever panic could’ve threatened to take hold. 

Kíli relaxed further with the knowledge that Fíli would’t let him down; wouldn’t lie to him or manipulate him the way he’d been lied to and manipulated by everyone he’d ever risked caring about in the past. 

Fíli, in the most backwards, contrary way, was the most honest person Kíli had ever met. That is, as honest as someone can be when they pretend to be someone they’re not while getting to know another person. 

Still, Kíli trusted him and if Fíli said he would be there, Kíli knew he would be. He couldn’t explain why, couldn’t begin to unpack the tangle of reasons he was so willing to believe the man who’d entered Kíli’s life under false pretenses.

At the end of the day, Fíli had saved Kíli’s life against all logic and that was worth forgiving everything else Fíli had done. It was.

Fíli stayed with him until he was too heavy to protest when Fíli finally stood up to leave, the sound of the clock tick-tocking from the corner lulling him into a deep, dreamless sleep. 

≡


	27. Cuddles

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> FíKí, T

≡

His brain whirred in spite of his exhaustion. Excess energy vibrated through him, the itch to finish what he’d started that morning preventing him from being able to relax. His body was sore allover, taut, stiff; his back appreciated that he’d laid himself down at least, even if it wouldn’t be for very long. Because he didn’t actually _have time for this_. Because they were only three and a half weeks in. Because even if it weren’t for the endless to-dos flashing neon lights on all the things he still had left he’d have to—

_Shh. There’s nothing you can do about it right now._

Fíli closed his eyes and breathed deep, savoring the comforting scent of linseed oil and cedar that filled his nose. 

Fat, heavy raindrops pelted the window above the bed in a soothing tattoo against the glass. The world outside was dark grey and miserable and everything required to put a few hours’ pause in their labored schedule. Apparently even Mother Nature wasn’t above throwing a tantrum to get them to take a break every so often; something neither of them were any good at recognizing they needed when they were in the thick of their workloads.

Moments like those, soft and mellow and cozy—those moments were rare during the rush-months; impossible. Moments when Fíli had his brother, pliant and sleep-warm, draped over him like a heavy blanket on their bed. 

Fíli inhaled a second time, let Kíli expand in his lungs and fill him with the smell of home. Kíli murmured as he napped, the unintelligible cadence of dreams, and nuzzled his face further into the crook below Fíli’s chin. 

They both worked hard - tradesmen, masters of their crafts - but Kíli had been pushing himself harder, longer that year than any year previous. Fíli lifted Kíli hand from where it rested on Fíli’s chest, careful and slow so as not to disturb him. Examining it, Fíli brushed a thumb over the smattering of slivers and torn skin where splinters of wood had likely embedded themselves before being hastily removed.

Kíli hated wearing gloves. Claimed they hindered his dexterity. He was meticulous and intricate and, goddamn, he needed glasses before he squinted himself blind. 

Placing Kíli’s hand back to where it had been, Fíli craned his neck as much as he could to look down at Kíli’s lax face. Between his eyes were permanent lines; fine, hardly noticeable if one didn’t pay attention. Fíli always did. He smoothed his thumb between Kíli’s brows as if to smooth away years of intense concentration, snorting a puff of air in amusement when Kíli’s brows just pinched further in reaction to the touch.

He squeezed Kíli tighter, pressed Kíli as close as he could get him without cutting himself open and swallowing Kíli whole. His thoughts were becoming less of a Rolodex blur of _this needs doing and this and this and this this this— _

_Slow now. Relax. _

Fíli buried his nose in Kíli’s hair and breathed again.

Exhaling through the ‘o’ of his lips, Fíli forced himself to focus on his brother who had shifted when Fíli tensed and was relaxing again as Fíli brought himself back to the present. The callouses on Fíli’s hands scritched and pulled the fabric of Kíli’s shirt lightly as he stroked up and down Kíli’s back in an effort to keep him content and asleep.

They still had projects to finish, orders to fill, deliveries to make but Fíli had to acknowledge that there was no use fretting about it. So, he indulged himself, reacquainted himself with Kíli’s dips and angles; luxuriated under the weight of Kíli in his arms. 

He could spend eternity tracing the hollows between Kíli’s bones and feel them fit seamlessly into the rises of Fíli’s own.

Fíli closed his eyes and trailed his hands down Kíli’s arms, shoulders, back, over Kíli’s thigh where it was flung across Fíli’s leg. Fíli massaged the muscles and sighed contentedly when Kíli tried to burrow himself closer. 

Their hearts beat in tandem, their breaths synced. Kíli’s nose twitched, he made a low noise then settled once more. Fíli couldn’t imagine another way he’d rather spend a stormy Tuesday afternoon. 

Pressing a kiss into the mop of Kíli’s hair, Fíli took one last deep inhale - linseed oil and cedar - before sinking into his pillow and letting himself drift.

≡ 


	28. "I didn't think you were going to like that."

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> FíKí, T

≡

“I didn’t think you were going to like that.” Kíli confessed, grin all lopsided and soft. Half-lidded eyes stuck to the ceiling for something to look at while his mind caught up to him. It was the best and worst idea Kíli had ever had but, whoa, had it worked out in his favor.

Fíli regarded him, relaxed and smiling, unable to disagree, “I didn’t think so either, to be fair.”

Kíli rolled onto his side, propped his head up and brought the fingers of his other hand to Fíli’s chest where he scratched through the coarse hair there, picking off flecks of blue-green with a nail. “Would you do it again?”

“Absolutely.” Fíli said without hesitation, grabbing Kíli’s hand and bringing it to his mouth for a kiss. He dropped Kíli’s hand and looked around the room, humming in consideration, “Although, next time, we should think about doing this in my studio … It … makes sense.”

Kíli followed Fíli’s gaze as it panned around the room. He nodded. “_Yeeeaaah_ …” As quick as a shot, Kíli was out of bed, tossing, “Loser has to clean up!” over his shoulder, specification not required as Fíli got with the program.

They shouldered and elbowed each other down the narrow hallway toward the bathroom, leaving behind them a canvas smeared with their passion and an explosion of body paints across the walls and floor. 

≡


	29. Fireflies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> FíKí, Gen

≡

The light glittered, amber-warm, in Kíli’s dark eyes, his cheeks and nose glowing the same gold and making him seem otherworldly. Fíli couldn’t look away. They sat together, pressed from shoulder to thigh, on the side of Mr. Boggins’ hill, the night bleeding inky-blues into the evening blush. The garden was still flush though the colors of the flowers soften in sleep as the sun disappeared below the horizon.

Kíli had been struck by awe when the garden had begun to wake again, flickering bursts of summer-gold speckles in the air, like magic. It was beautiful. Almost as beautiful as Kíli himself.

After a long few minutes of watching Kíli watch the garden, Kíli turned his honey-sweet smile on Fíli, sucking Fíli’s breath from his lungs.

“It’s incredible.” Kíli whispered, unwilling to risk disturbing the scene.

Fíli lifted a hand to cup Kíli’s jaw and leaned closer, narrowing the distance between their faces as he whispered back, “It always is.”

≡


	30. Peaches

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> FíKí, T

≡

Fíli was a veritable _feast_, splayed out for Kíli to devour. Hair of spun honey-gold and eyes that glittered sugar warmth whenever Kíli lost himself in them. Fíli’s skin was sweat-salty, Kíli lips and tongue and teeth working together to taste as much of it as possible. Cream-rich thighs opened to reveal a blushing cock, plummy head leaking a bittersweet nectar Kíli could glut himself on til he was fat around the middle. 

Above his bellybutton, up up up, to Fíli’s chest, his neck, his chin – wet, sloppy kisses in a trail of biting cinnamon heat marking Kíli’s way toward his undoing. Peach lips, succulent and ripe, always parted and gasping and luring Kíli in no matter where they were and who they were with.

Kíli could never resist. Had to use all the strength he’d ever learned to wait until he and Fíli were, _at least_, in the privacy of shadows. Like a starving dog told to wait as its master waved a strip of meat, Kíli trembled and growled until he was allowed to swallow every noise Fíli made between them.

Fíli, Kíli praised, was ambrosia.

≡


End file.
